


The Head Boy and the First Year

by hawkstout



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Sorting (Harry Potter), Bruce's 'death', Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkstout/pseuds/hawkstout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, cunning and ambitious was put in the wrong house. </p><p>Excerpt: This was the third night in a row since opening ceremonies. The boy sat cross legged leaning against the cold damp wall of the dungeon watching with silent hateful eyes as the Slytherin students popped back in before curfew. He was small, black haired, blue eyed. He wore expensive robes, but his tie was missing as well as his uniform’s vest. There was no indication of his proper house, but everyone knew who he was and where he belonged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Head Boy and the First Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [narfiffiftic (maladictive)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maladictive/gifts).



This was the third night in a row since opening ceremonies. The boy sat cross legged leaning against the cold damp wall of the dungeon watching with silent hateful eyes as the Slytherin students popped back in before curfew. He was small, black haired, blue eyed. He wore expensive robes, but his tie was missing as well as his uniform’s vest. There was no indication of his proper house, but everyone knew who he was and where he belonged.

“Damian Wayne?”

The boy quickly looked up at him. The door had opened and closed without him even noticing.

Dick forced a smile. Damian stared dispassionately back.

Dick would have spoken with him the first night, but his new duties as Head Boy had kept him well past curfew. This was the first night he was able to witness it. According to his little first years and Cass, who was Prefect of Hufflepuff this year, Damian refused to even step into his new common room of his own volition. He hadn’t even gone into his dorm. He looked tired and disheveled. He had probably slept on the couches—that is if he had slept at all. He also had skipped all his classes. The piling amounts of detentions, and demerits to Hufflepuff didn’t seem to faze him. Professor J’onzz had to drag the boy back each night, away from his silent sentry.

Tonight, after hearing the stories, Dick asked that Professor J’onzz not come. He wanted a try where the other teachers and students had failed. He was given special permission and he knew he only had one shot to get through to him.

Damian’s cool blue eyes studied him and spotted the badge.

“Grayson,” He correctly identified, and then continued, “Prefect of Slytherin House in your sixth year, Head Boy in your seventh. Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team; you’re not the fastest or most powerful player, but an excellent tactician and leader, which makes you idle for a keeper. You’ve maintained one of the highest scores in your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in your year. You’re someone that will be remembered at this school. You will have a legacy. One can only wonder how you have the time for anything.”

It was odd hearing his school life listed out in the calculated voice of the first year, but Dick didn’t let it rattle him. He only smiled.

“You’ve done your homework.”

“You were supposed to be someone I would overcome. Know thy enemy,” He seemed sore on the point. Bitterly disappointed.

“I’d like to think of myself as a mentor to my little first years,” Dick said, “Which you expected to be among.” Damian didn’t look surprised at the easy deduction.

“Tt. The hat made a mistake, a grievous error.”

“The Sorting Hat doesn’t make that kind of mistake,” Dick shook his head. His first instinct was to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but the boy was so wound up that he thought better of it.

“WELL IT DID WITH ME!” Damian slammed his fist on the floor. He glared furiously up at Dick. “I come from a long line of Slytherins on BOTH sides of my family. I am cunning. I am ambitious. I will do whatever it entails to reach my goals!”

“Like sitting on the floor giving the evil eye to every Slytherin that passes you on their way home?”

Damian’s face was screwed with anger, “It isn’t right that they should call that common room home when it’s denied to me!” he said heatedly.

Dick understood. He actually did, and he wanted to take the boy in his arms and hug him and bring him into his common room and welcome him and protect him.

But it was impossible.

“The hat wouldn’t put you anywhere you didn’t want to be.”

“Well it did,” Damian crossed his arms. It seemed aggressive, but he had actually made himself smaller.

“I am Damian Wayne,” he finished quietly, his eyes downcast, “Not a Hufflepuff.”

Dick squatted down so that he was at eye level with the boy, “There is nothing wrong with being a Hufflepuff.”

Damian glared, “Says the Head Boy of Slytherin house.”

“I was almost a Hufflepuff,” Dick offered.

Damian gave him a look that clearly spoke of his disbelief and annoyance that Dick would lie to him about a thing like that.

“Really,” Dick said, “The Sorting Hat spoke to me. Went through my brain. I was excited and nervous and was ready for any place that would—any place that would take me.” His eyes darkened at the memory.

“Let me guess,” Damian said sulkily, “Brave enough for a Gryffindor, wise enough for a Ravenclaw, hardworking like a Hufflepuff, but in the end ambition and cunning won out, so you were a Slytherin.”

Dick shook his head, “The hat knew what I needed. ‘Gryffindor are true and honourable, you’ll find friends there. Ravenclaw accomplish the most fantastic things when they work together. You’ll make friends there as well, but if you want a family Hufflepuff and Slytherin are the better choices for you, Richard Grayson.’”

“Family?” Damian looked at him in disbelief.

Dick smiled thinly. Even after all these years it was still pained. “My parents died a year before I came to Hogwarts. I didn’t care about being on the quidditch team, or learning complicated spells, or being a Prefect. I didn’t want to be anything but to be a part of something.”

“That’s stupid,” Damian pronounced. Dick felt a rise of annoyance but shoved it down. The kid was in pain and needed patience.

Damian wasn’t looking at him now. Dick leaned forward a bit.

“House mottos aside there’s more to a Slytherin than cunning, and there’s more to a Hufflepuff than hard work.”

“The hat didn’t even talk to me. As soon as it touched my head it screamed out Hufflepuff and everyone laughed, even the Hufflepuffs!”

Dick remembered. At his name there were knowing looks as Damian made his way proudly, haughtily towards the Sorting Hat. The absurdity of the blood-born Slytherin being placed in Hufflepuff started a wave of laughter. Damian was red faced when it was pulled off his head. He said something that couldn’t he heard over the laughter, probably a protest. Professor Lance called for silence and Damian was ushered off to the side before he could cause trouble. He refused to sit at the table. Dick had watched. Damian had hovered on the sidelines looking panicked, but before anyone could do anything to help, he ran out of the Great Hall.

The boy had a similar expression now, his chubby cheeks had gone red with residue embarrassment. “How dare they?” He grumbled trying to sound more angry than miserable.

Dick gave in and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. It wasn’t swatted away like expected.

“I was supposed to live up to him,” his voice was thin as air and Dick was sure he was holding back tears.

“Bruce wouldn’t want you on the ground in the dungeon because you didn’t get into his house.”

“—How dare you!” Damian shouted at his father’s name being spoken. He angrily shoved Dick’s hand away. “Don’t you dare be so informal with—”

Dick clasped his hands together, “I knew your father… well enough that he expected I should call him Bruce.”

Damian didn’t say anything. Didn’t interrupt.

“I was an orphan at Hogwarts. He was the head of Slytherin…we kept each other company a lot.”

Dick remembered that first winter holiday, watching the excitement of all his new friends. They had piled him with presents and promised to write each other. Then they asked with guilty faces where Dick was going.

Dick had nowhere to go. Before they could put him in an orphanage they had sent him to Hogwarts. He was staying here. No one in Slytherin seemed to have the same problem in his year. Everyone had opted for the trip home, so it would be him, four Ravenclaw, three Gryffindor and two Hufflepuff. The other three houses … well, Slytherin house wasn’t well loved. Dick knew he would have spent two weeks in utter isolation if it wasn’t for Professor Bruce Wayne.

He was called into his office the day everyone left, and they struck up one of the most important friendships of Dick’s life.

He was pulled back to the present by Damian.

“I didn’t know him well,” the boy admitted picking at his robe. “We met twice. The first time didn’t go well… and neither did the second. I spent about a month with him before he died. We didn’t get along.” His face suddenly morphed into realisation, “You’re Robin.”

Dick didn’t want to feel his heart tear at the old nickname, Mom and now Bruce. He wanted it to have all the bright happy memories, but it was clouded in too much grief for him to be able to stand it.

“Yes.”

“He… spoke about you sometimes.”

There was more to that. Damian seemed to shut down at the discovery. He didn’t say more.

“Did he?” Dick was actually surprised. Bruce was private, even with people he as counted close as family.

“Of course he did, he never stopped,” Damian murmured, “It wasn’t so blatant, but it was always there. You gave all your trophies for him to keep. Sometimes he would look at pictures. You were younger so I didn’t recognise you. He would compare us, I’m sure he was always comparing us. Robin was another rival I had to overcome. You beat me twice. In your academic career and in my father’s affections.”

Dick wanted to protest and count the ways that he and Bruce had had their problems, but it would be useless, especially when he considered how strong their bond was, even after all that had happened between them. Bruce was a father to him. A father he loved.

“He spoke about you too you know.”

“Liar.”

“We had correspondence,” Dick insisted, “Over the summer. He said you were a lot like him, and a lot like your mother.”

“He hated my mother.”

“No,” Dick shook his head, “She was important, even when they were at odds with each other.” He didn’t mention how he himself disliked Damian’s mother. That was… a bridge to cross later. “He wrote about the changes you brought.”

“How I was a spoiled brat that didn’t know his place?”

Dick sighed. This kid. He really didn’t understand. When he started reading all the letters about Damian he had felt a bit jealous. More than he had felt when Bruce had started tutoring Jason. Dick knew Bruce wasn’t replacing him in his heart either time, but he had been Bruce’s sole happiness for so long and the son he always wanted. Now he had a real son, where did that leave Dick?

It didn’t take long for Bruce’s letters about Damian to win him over though. Dick was looking forward to their first year all together. Seeing Bruce and his son’s relationship bloom, helping the boy himself. He was as certain as Damian that he would be put in his house. He was just as stunned at the sorting ceremony and it felt like another blow. First he lost Bruce and now Bruce’s son would grow up away from him with probably no need for him.

He was wrong on that count. 

And Bruce would complain about Damian, but in the same breath he would speak about all his merits and how … happy he was that the boy was in his life.

In a very Bruce-like way of course.

“Bruce was wounded for a very long time.”

“Because of Grandmother and Grandfather.”

“Yes,” Dick said, “And he has been slowly healing.”

“Because of you.”

“And Alfred, and Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon—Jason Todd,” The last name said with a reverence even after the calamities caused by, who many described as a dark wizard. Jason wasn’t what people thought he was. “But you Damian… I think you were the last few stitches he needed on his heart. He’s been a father to a lot of people, but I think this was the first time he realized he was one. He wanted very badly to be there for you because he had missed the first ten years of your life. He was ready to bury his parents, and it’s because of you.”

Damian’s knuckles were white, he was so tense. “That wasn’t me! That was the ideal of a son! That we had a connection of blood might have excited him, but I was a disappointment as soon as he saw me, because I was Mother’s and he—”

Dick hugged him. It stunned Damian enough to let his angry words die on his lips. He didn’t struggle. He let Dick hug him.

“The hat said, ‘where do you want to go?’” Dick whispered quickly. “I said, ‘Put me somewhere that I can have a family again and keep it, somewhere that I can learn how to defend it.’ As you walked up to the hat, expecting Slytherin you still worried. You kept thinking ‘I need to make him proud. I have to be where I’ll make him proud.’”

“—I.”

“And the hat barely had to touch your head to know where that would be.”

“But Hufflepuff!?” Damian shifted in his arms. He leaned his head against Dick’s shoulder and Dick could feel dampness soaking into his robes.

“Bruce would have been happy wherever you landed, but it’s not a matter of what’s going to make him happy. The hat put you in the house that would help you be happy. The house that would help you understand that Bruce was already proud of you… the house that will let you live up to the standards he’s left for you. I think you’re the most loyal, honest person I’ve ever met. Merits of a Hufflepuff.”

Dick released him and pulled back.

“I’ve already made enemies there,” Damian said quietly. He had a flat expression, but he looked better than at the start of their conversation. Dick stood and held out his hand.

“I’ll help you. You have to surpass me, remember?”

Damian took his hand. Let himself be pulled up.

They walked silently toward the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room when Damian said:

“He spoke about Robin like a son.”

Dick’s own tears were hidden in the darkness of the corridor. He felt a bang of grief again. He wanted to promise Bruce he would protect his son. He would help him.

“I guess that makes you my little brother then.”


End file.
